


like a thousand promises come true

by trishapocalypse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Nanny, Anal Sex, Consensual Infidelity, Infidelity, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“He was about to kiss me when you texted me.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The smile fell from Liam’s face and he shook his head, moving his hands up to cup Harry’s cheeks. “Haz, you’re getting in too deep. He wasn’t—“</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“He <b>was,</b>” Harry insisted, eyes burning bright. “I know you think I’m full of shit, Liam, but he <b>was.</b>" </i>
</p><p> </p><p>(Or: the one where Harry is the Beckham's nanny, and he may or may not be in love with David.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a thousand promises come true

**Author's Note:**

> first things first: there is cheating, it is consensual, it is also explained in the story. so that's the disclaimer. if that's not your thing - turn back now, because i won't deal with people accusing me of not tagging correctly or complaining about the cheating. you've been warned.
> 
> ahem. second: this is for my darling kitkat, the beautiful @expensivestyles on tumblr, because it's her birthday, and we've tossed about the idea of harry/david for A LONG TIME. here it FINALLY is, my darling!! funny how a 2k scene of snogging turns....into....this.... this is entirely self-indulgent and written for the sole purpose of kat and for her to enjoy. i felt like sharing. i'm not sure why. my darling kitkat, i hope you love it as much as i enjoyed writing it!
> 
> thirdly: beta'd by my rock, my purple heart emoji, alex. i hope all of you enjoy it, as well, because it was actually quite fun for me to write. (:

Harry knew that David was home because of two things: one, he could hear the boys yelling and screaming from the footie pitch behind the house and two, the telltale sign of shivers running down the back of his spine. And it was cliché, all right, but he actually couldn’t _help_ it. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on washing the dishes that didn’t fit in the dishwasher from lunch, a mess of an affair because Brooklyn swore he could cook and Cruz wanted to make cupcakes and Harper had spilled the batter. 

(Though the batter incident was probably Harry’s fault—he should’ve known better than to let a two-year-old hold the bowl, even for a minute, and Harry had spent thirty minutes mopping the kitchen after sending the boys outside to play and setting Harper down for a nap.)

Harry was in the middle of rinsing off the last of the dishes, setting them in the dish rack next to the sink, when he heard David walk into the kitchen.

“Romeo told me about the cupcake incident.”

Harry swallowed, sucking in a deep breath, telling himself it was fine, it was _okay,_ he didn’t—he didn’t have to _react_ like that every time that David spoke. He had been David and Victoria’s nanny for two years, since Harper was born, and he still hadn’t gotten over his silly little crush. But, well, it was _David Beckham,_ who was infinitely more attractive and charming in person. And Harry was only eighteen so, really, he couldn’t be blamed, right? “I’m eighty-percent sure he’s exaggerating,” Harry said with a smile, only glancing back at David from over his shoulder.

David laughed, walking up next to Harry and leaning against the counter, watching as the younger boy dried his hands. “How bad was the mess?”

“Pretty bad,” Harry admitted. “I cleaned it up, though, after putting her down for a nap. Can’t be mad at her for too long, yeah?”

“Yeah, barely two and got me wrapped around her finger already,” David told him with a small smile. 

“Could actually get away with murder, that one.”

“Hopefully it never comes to that.”

Harry laughed. “Somehow I think, out of the two of you, you would murder first. Especially when she starts dating.”

David narrowed his eyes towards Harry, shaking his head. “Don’t go there, H. I still have thirty years before that happens.”

“Right,” Harry agreed amicably, patting David on the shoulder. “I forgot.” He chuckled and Harry quickly pulled his hand back, knowing how bad of a move that was, because he couldn’t go about doing silly things like _touching_ David. 

Harry had a good relationship with the two of them—great, even, ever since Victoria and her assistant had interviewed Harry, sixteen and bright-eyed, spouting how much he loves children (he does) and how excited he was to work for them (he was). She had hired him nearly on the spot, after a background check and a drug test (she didn’t play around), and Harry was arriving at Beckingham Palace, his mother’s tears fresh in his mind, because Victoria had explained that this would be a twenty-four-seven job. 

And for a sixteen year old who had never lived on his own, getting his own room (and, eventually, the guest house when Harper started sleeping through the night), he was living the dream. A very, very lovely dream when he got to see the likes of David Beckham on the daily, in various states of undress and work out, but it was also a nightmare for the same reason. And while it was a twenty-four-seven job, he was given more than enough time off. When both David and Victoria were home, after meetings and games and everything else they had to do, he was given the choice to spend time with all of them or go about and do his own thing.

(Nine times out of ten, he picked spending time with the people who had become his second family; very rarely did he need time alone. And when they went on vacation, half of the time, he would go with them; the other half of the time, he would stay at the house and invite Liam over, anything to get his mind off of the fact that he could never have David. Which, well, he _knew_ he couldn’t, was very well aware of that, but it didn’t stop Harry from _wanting_ him.)

“We’ll be flying out to L.A. next week,” David told him, turning away and opening one of their refrigerators, puling out two cans of Coke and handing one to Harry. “Do you want to go?”

Harry opened up the can, taking a drink. “Do you want me—I mean, do you—do you and Mrs. B need me to go?”

The corner of David’s lip tilted upwards. “You know you can call her Vic, yeah? She doesn’t mind.”

Harry shrugged. “She’s too classy to me for that.”

“Right,” David agreed with a smile. “Well, it’s up to you. We won’t be doing much; just trying to escape England in October.”

“Can’t blame you there.”

“So it’s up to you. We’ll be there for probably a month. You can go, or you can stay, spend time with your family, with that boy you bring here sometimes—“

“What?” Harry asked, eyes wide, head snapping up.

David laughed. “You can have people over, H,” he assured him. “You know, the dark-haired lad? Your boyfriend?”

“Liam’s not my boyfriend,” Harry said quickly.

“It’s okay if you have a boyfriend.”

“I know. He’s not my boyfriend,” he repeated, desperately trying to get the point across that no, he was _single,_ and he was very, very attracted to— No, he couldn’t, _shouldn’t,_ go there. He knew nothing was going to happen, nothing could ever happen, but…but he still didn’t, like, want David thinking that he had a boyfriend, because he _didn’t._ He just hooked up with Liam sometimes—a lot—that’s what eighteen year old boys _did._ And, well, it was just pure coincidence that Liam _looked_ like David. 

David smiled softly, just barely, and reached over, thumb brushing along the curve of Harry’s jaw. 

“I—“

“You had a little—“ David said, pulling his thumb back to see a little bit of icing spread across his thumb. “No icing incident?”

“Wasn’t gonna tell you about that one,” Harry told him, a little breathless as he watched David wrap his lips around his thumb, and he swayed forward a little bit. “I—“

David’s eyes fell to Harry’s mouth, where his bottom lip was being bitten by his teeth, and he couldn’t help but get distracted. He was only shaken out of his daydream, his mouth barely centimeters away from Harry’s, when he heard Romeo yell out for him, running in from the back yard. 

“Dad! You gonna come out and kick about with us?” Romeo asked, running into the kitchen and sliding to a halt, shoes skidding across the floor. 

“Romeo James!” Harry chided. “Watch the shoes.”

Romeo had the good sense to actually look sheepish. “Sorry, Hazza.”

“It’s alright; just be careful, yeah?” Harry reminded him.

He nodded, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You gonna come, dad?”

“Yeah, f’course,” David told him before turning to face Harry. “You gonna join?”

“Dad, Hazza’s awful,” Romeo interrupted. 

“Romeo!”

Harry grinned, shrugging. “He’s right.”

“Well, I know that,” David teased, reaching out to shove at Harry’s shoulder. “I’ve seen you play.”

Romeo snorted. “If you call _that_ playing. I’m pretty sure Harper is a savant compared to you,” he joked.

Harry laughed, cheeks going a little pink. “C’mon, I’m not _that_ awful.”

“You’re right,” David agreed. “You’re not.”

“Kind of are,” Romeo muttered.

David shook Romeo’s shoulder as he walked by. “Behave. Gonna join us, H?”

Harry couldn’t think of anything more awful than joining the boys for a kick about, because that’s when David was at his prime, obviously, and it usually ended in him taking off his shirt and that—that might’ve been the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen. But he wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind for that. “Think I’m gonna head in for a shower, actually.”

“Make sure you get all that icing, yeah?” David told him, motioning along Harry’s jaw before he let Romeo grab his hand and pull him out into the back yard and to the pitch. 

Harry followed soon after, only allowing himself thirty seconds of watching David running around with the boys before ducking into the guest house—he had been living there for almost a year, in the guest house, and it still felt weird to call it “home.” He showered quickly, scrubbing at his face to make sure he got off all of the icing that might’ve been lingering on his skin, before pulling on a soft pair of sweats and collapsing on his bed. It didn’t take long for his hands to find his mobile, his fingers to type out a quick message inviting Liam over in a few hours, once he knew Victoria would be home and the family would be distracted.

It wasn’t like— He knew he could invite people over, have his friends over; he was usually given pretty free reign once both Victoria and David were home since he had proven time and time again that the children were his priority. (Even Brooklyn, who insisted he didn’t need a nanny and tried to act like it was a problem any time Harry was in public with him—he actually really liked Harry, they all did, which made his job a _lot_ easier.) So he had been given a lot of freedom, had even invited Louis over to one of their dinner parties, nearly causing his best mate to piss himself when Harry got to introduce him to _The_ David Beckham—Harry won Best Mate Ever Status for that, thanks very much. But still, there were parts of his life that he wanted to keep to himself, not put on display, for no other reason than he didn’t want his boss to know that the man he was currently fucking looked like a younger version of him. Harry was _sure_ that that would cause some sort of tension—and not the good kind. 

Either way, he had Liam headed over in a couple of hours, and Harry was determined to not get distracted by the sight outside of the window. Though that was one of his favorite things, he had to admit, not just because he loved watching David out on the pitch (he did) but because it was nice to see David spending time with his boys and enjoying it. But it was also terrible for his health because, well, David all sweaty and in his element? Harry was _only_ a teenager—there was only so much he could do. 

When he got the text from Liam that he would be there in an hour and a half, he decided to head back into the house to give Harper a bath. He could hear David and the boys in the media room, probably playing Fifa, and he made his way up the stairs to Harper’s room. He paused in the doorway when he saw Victoria standing next to Harper’s bed, petting her hair. 

“You okay, Mrs. B?”

Victoria turned around, a tired smile on her pretty face, and she nodded. “Long day, Harry. Could you—“

“I was just about to give her a bath,” Harry told her, resting a careful hand on her shoulder. 

“Sounds wonderful. I might take one as well,” she said quietly, forcing out a laugh. 

Harry nodded. “Go take a bath. I’ll get Harper ready for bed and let Mr. B know you’re going to turn in early, yeah?”

“You’re a blessing, Harry,” Victoria said with a smile. “Thank you.”

“S’my job,” he replied with a grin, reaching down to scoop Harper up into his arms. “You ready for bath time, baby girl?”

 

+

 

Harry managed to get Harper washed up and ready for bed with minimal drama for a two-year old; he assumed the cupcake incident from earlier in the day had worn her out. By the time he got her into bed, his shirt was almost dry from her constant splashing, and he literally ran into David as he bounced down the stairs, nearly falling over. 

“You’re a hazard, H,” David said with a laugh, gripping Harry’s shoulder to make sure he didn’t fall over. “Where’s—“

“Mrs. B is having a bath and going to bed, and I just did the same with Harper. She’s fast asleep. The boys?”

“Watching a film, then going to bed. I’m going to go for a swim,” David told him, his hand slipping down Harry’s shoulder to rest against his bicep, barely brushing across the warm skin of his arm underneath the sleeve of his shirt.

“I—“ Harry trailed off, looking up to meet David’s eyes. And, for the second time that day, Harry could’ve sworn that _something_ was about to happen, from the look in David’s eyes, warm and hooded, to the way his body instinctively swayed a little bit closer to David. And he had no doubt that something would’ve happened that time, the two of them hidden away by the foot of the stairs between the living room and the kitchen, the only light was from the full moon, shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Harry had no doubt that he would’ve closed the gap, or David would have, and he finally would know what it was like to kiss him, had it not been for the loud vibration of his mobile in his pocket breaking them out of their trance. Harry cursed under his breath as he pulled his mobile out of his pocket, thumbing open the text from Liam that said he was waiting outside the guesthouse. 

David took a step back, and Harry could’ve sworn he saw regret on his face, his hand dropping from Harry’s arm. 

“I have to…” Harry trailed off, pointing over his shoulder. 

“Right.”

“I…” Harry hesitated. “I would like to go to LA with you—I mean, with the family,” he corrected. “As long as that’s okay.”

David nodded. “Of course. I’ll have Vic’s assistant make the arrangements.”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding again, staring at David for a solid fifteen seconds before his mobile vibrated again in his hand. “I should—I should—Go,” he decided on, quickly turning on his heel and making his way back out to the guest house, trying to put some sort of distance between him and David before he did something stupid. He walked past Liam, opening the door and walking in without a word; he heard Liam shut the door behind him, and he turned around, reaching for Liam’s hand and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Hello to you, too,” Liam breathed out, gripping Harry’s hips in his hands as the younger boy started kissing his neck. 

“You’re a cock block,” Harry whined, biting at his neck before pulling away with a pout. 

Liam laughed. “I am? How?”

“He was about to kiss me when you texted me.”

The smile fell from Liam’s face and he shook his head, moving his hands up to cup Harry’s cheeks. “Haz, you’re getting in too deep. He wasn’t—“

“He _was,_ ” Harry insisted, eyes burning bright. “I know you think I’m full of shit, Liam, but he _was._ He almost did this afternoon, too.”

Liam leaned in and pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead. “Okay,” he said softly, placating. “Okay.”

“You don’t believe me,” Harry pouted, wrapping his arms around Liam’s waist.

“It’s not that, Haz, it’s—“

“Whatever, I don’t care,” he interrupted. “Just—Just fuck me, yeah?”

 

+

 

Harry curled around Liam as he climbed back into bed after tossing the wet flannel onto the pile of clothes Harry had piling up in the corner. He rested his ear over Liam’s heart, could feel it start to slow down, and he trailed his fingertips over the cut of Liam’s hips, up the center of his stomach, across his abs. 

“You alright?” Liam asked, pressing his lips to the top of Harry’s head. 

Harry nodded, walking his fingertips down the center of Liam’s chest and back up, flicking at his nipple. “Yeah, just…thinkin’ about what you said.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Liam told him, running his fingers through Harry’s curls. 

“I know,” Harry insisted. “But he really _was_ about to kiss me, Liam, I _know_ it.”

Liam nodded slowly, choosing his words wisely. “I just don’t want you to get wrapped up in something bad, yeah? If Mrs. B found out—“

“I know,” he whispered, interrupting Liam, because he didn’t need to _hear_ it, he knew what he was going to say. 

“Do you think, like, you just need to get it out of your system?”

“It’s been two, years, Li,” Harry told him sadly. “Think if it was just that, fucking you would do the trick, yeah?”

Liam rolled his eyes. “’Cept I won’t let you call me David when you come.”

Harry laughed, cheeks going pink, and he readjusted so he could rest his chin on Liam’s chest, looking up at him. “I’m going to L.A. with them next week. I’ll be there for about a month.”

“Jealous. The weather there is perfect,” he mused.

“Yeah, I love it,” Harry agreed quietly. “Do you… Do you think, like…”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think, like, that I should try something? Like, so he knows I want this?”

“Harry—“

“No, like,” Harry said, cutting him off and sitting up, his sheet pooling around his waist. “Listen, it’s not— Like, what if he does, too, yeah? But he doesn’t know if _I_ do because I’m younger—“

“You’re only a few years older than his son, Harry,” Liam pointed out.

Harry frowned. “That’s—That’s not the point, Liam,” he insisted. “What if—“

“I can’t support you sleeping with a married man, Harry,” Liam said. “I can’t, like, sit here and help you come up with ideas. This would destroy them.”

“He’s cheated before, so has she. You have no idea the dirt that I have on them, Liam. They’ve been together for so long but, like, they’re not happy anymore,” Harry told him. “You can think I’m making it up if you want, but. I know them. I know them very well. I wouldn’t be, like, trying to make a move if they were happy.”

Liam sat up slowly, moving until he was leaning back against the headboard. “I just don’t want you to get in too deep is all,” he told him. “If this went south, would you be able to get another job? Would—“

“I could go to uni. They’re not the type to slander anyone’s name, yeah? They’re private people. And I don’t—I don’t think, like, anyone would know.”

“Do you think you just need to get it out of your system? See what it’s like so you can move on?” Liam asked.

Harry paused to think about it for a minute, because he didn’t know the answer. Somewhere along the line, it changed from wanting to have sex with David to…well, he wasn’t really sure. It was different, lusting after someone that one didn’t know, to developing a serious crush on someone they grew to know very well. Somewhere along the line it changed from imagining a quick fuck by the pool house, snogging in the wine cellar, a blowjob in the maze, to early morning kisses and breakfast in bed, massaging David’s shoulders after a long day, and bubble baths on Sunday nights. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I really don’t.”

 

+

 

Harry sent Liam home the next morning with a good snog in the doorway of the guest room and a quick slap on the arse. He watched Liam walk away, back to his truck, and he leaned against the doorway, their last conversation about David running through his mind. He was so preoccupied he didn’t notice David jogging up the path, hair pushed out of his eyes by a bandana Harry was almost certain was _his,_ and jogging bottoms low on his hips, his chest sweaty. And when he did notice, he nearly fell over, fingertips digging into the wood of the doorframe to keep himself up right, and he found himself wishing he had thought to throw on a shirt or some trackies so he wasn’t stood in the doorway in naught but his pants as David walked up to him with a smile on his face. 

“Have fun last night, H?”

Harry felt his cheeks flush, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m so—“

“Don’t,” David cut him off with a grin. “I was young once. Granted, it was a while ago, but I remember how these things work.”

“Shut up; you’re young now,” Harry told him, the corner of his lips quirking upward. 

David shrugged. “Younger, then. I’ve met him before, yeah?” he asked, eyes narrowing just slightly.

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah, uh, Liam,” he offered. “Came to one of your parties a couple of months ago with me.”

“Right, he was the one that Vic was talking about all night, saying looked just like me,” he commented with a laugh. 

Harry felt his cheeks flush even darker. “Well— He’s not—“

“Kind of interesting,” David said slowly, cutting him off, “that Liam looks so much like me.”

With a swallow, Harry looked down at his feet. “Are you going on a run?”

David nodded, not wanting to push the subject if Harry wasn’t on board. “Yeah, just around the property, I think,” he told him. “Already warmed up.”

“Do you want— Do you need a bottle of water?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” David said, his mouth going a little dry as Harry turned on his heel, leading him into the guesthouse. And David—David had been inside the guesthouse before, plenty of times since he and Victoria bought the property, but he hadn’t been in it, not really, not since Harry had moved it. And he had made it his own, it was obvious, an acoustic guitar in the corner and albums and vinyl spread out on every surface, novels and empty cups of tea on every table. The entire space looked lived in and so utterly Harry that David couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. 

Harry dug a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, turning around to hand it to David when he caught him staring at— Harry shook his head, didn’t want to get too far into his own head, didn’t want to get too hopeful, but he could’ve sworn that David _was_ looking at him, and not just because he wanted it to be true.

David stepped forward, drawing his eyes up from Harry’s pants, and he took the bottle out of his hands, opening it and taking a long drink. He could practically feel Harry’s eyes on him, and he finished nearly half of the bottle easily, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, catching Harry’s wide eyes. 

Harry swallowed, eyes drifting down the length of David’s neck, his collarbones, his chest, before snapping back up, cheeks pink. “I—“

David capped the bottle of water, reaching around Harry to set it on the counter by the wink, his free hand catching on Harry’s waist and settling there, thumb pressing against his hipbone. He felt Harry take a step backwards, his back pressing against the edge of the counter, and he followed him instinctively, keeping barely a centimeter between their bodies. 

Harry’s fingers curled against his side, his heart hammering in his chest, because David was just _so close_ that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. And he knew he wasn’t making it up, knew it wasn’t all in his head, because he could pass off the day before as some sort of exaggeration, but this— There was no question about why David was so close, there was no _reason_ for them to be so close unless—

“Tell me,” David started, his voice soft, and he set his hand on the edge of the counter, effectively keeping Harry between his arms. He licked his lips, eyes flitting down to Harry’s mouth and then back up again, hesitating.

“Tell you what?” Harry breathed out in a rush, wondering if David was able to hear the way his heart was racing or feel the way the blood was rushing through his veins. It was all at once, it was too much, and Harry didn’t know what to do—couldn’t control the way he was feeling, the way he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin. 

“That you—“ David trailed off, brushing his knuckles across Harry’s hip, watching the way Harry’s lips parted silently. He moved his hand that was resting on the countertop to Harry’s jaw, thumb brushing over his lips.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, nodding before he surged forward without a second thought, pressing his lips to David’s. He had nothing to lose, not really, unless he was completely misreading the signs—and he didn’t think he was, was almost positive he _wasn’t,_ especially when he felt David wrap an arm around his waist and pull him closer. And never in a million years would Harry have ever thought he would be in such a position, caught between the counter and David’s chest, lips molded together. 

David gripped Harry’s jaw a little together, dominating the kiss, licking into his mouth until Harry was whimpering. He slid his hand across Harry’s stomach, just feeling the way his breathing sped up, before he slid both hands around to the back of Harry’s thighs, lifting him up easily and depositing him on the kitchen counter.

Harry wrapped his long legs around David’s waist, pulling him in closer. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed or worried when he felt himself start to thicken beneath his pants, his cock lying half-hard against his thigh. And he had just been with Liam thirty minutes before, had Liam’s hands all over his body, fingers and tongue and cock buried in his arse, but nothing compared to the way his body felt like it was on fire every time David touched him. Harry ran his hands along the length of David’s chest, feeling and exploring since he knew that he _could,_ at least for the time being. Harry let David pulled him forward on the counter until their chests were pressed together and David’s hips were the only thing keeping him from falling off the counter; he felt David’s palm brush over the length of his cock and he bit down on David’s lip, eliciting a moan from the older man, and—

A loud _thwack_ broke through their reverie, interrupting the moment, and Harry slipped off of the counter when he jumped, David’s hands were the only thing that steadied him.

_”Oops. Sorry, Hazza!”_

“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, lightly pushing David away as he stepped towards the little window above the kitchen sink to his right, peering out to see Brooklyn, Cruz, and Romeo kicking about a ball, waving a hand in apology. He opened the window and leaned over the sink. “Be careful, boys, yeah?”

“Will do!” Brooklyn yelled. “Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Harry told them before closing the window again, watching them play in the big yard.

“Close the blinds,” David whispered from where he was still standing to Harry’s right, one hand still resting on the counter.

Harry bit his lip and closed the blinds, securing them to where no one would be able to peer in and see anything, his heart still pounding away in his chest. Since the moment had been ruined, he didn’t know _how_ to feel; his body was still tingling, so on fire with David so close, and he knew he should’ve asked him to leave, ended it right then, knowing nothing good could possibly come out of it, but he _couldn’t._

David stepped up behind Harry, wrapping an arm around his waist, palm heavy and warm against his abdomen, fingers splayed across the smooth skin and tickling the light trail of hair beneath his navel. 

“We shouldn’t,” Harry whispered, bowing his head, because that’s what he _had_ to say—it wasn’t what he wanted, it wasn’t what he felt, and he knew that was _wrong,_ but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help how much he wanted David, how that didn’t go away once he got a taste, not like Liam thought—or hoped—it would. 

“I know,” David agreed quietly, pressing his lips to Harry’s shoulder blade, against the warm skin. “Do you not want to?” he asked him, lips trailing from one shoulder to the other, up the side of his neck, and he didn’t miss the way Harry tilted his head back, allowing him better access. 

“We shouldn’t,” Harry repeated, with no real force behind it at all, his words stuttering slightly when David’s lips brushed across his pulse point, feeling his heart rate skyrocket. He reached for David’s wrist, fingers brushing across the skin, the tendons and veins, until he covered David’s knuckles with his own. It only took a fraction of a second before he was pushing David’s hand down gently, under the hem of his pants, and he let out a gasp as David’s fingers brushed against his half-hard cock. 

“Yeah,” David breathed out against Harry’s neck, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s cock without a second thought. “Feel good?”

Harry nodded quickly, sighing when David worked his hand a little quicker, coaxing him into full hardness with little ease. “Yeah, fuck,” he cursed, hips jerking forward, and he cursed again when he felt David grind against his arse, could feel the hard line of his cock pressed against him, and it was overwhelming. 

David huffed against Harry’s neck, feeling the muscles tense in his abdomen. He ran a hand up the length of Harry’s chest, knuckles brushing across his nipple, and he felt Harry’s cock jerk in his hand. He chuckled lightly, biting at Harry’s neck and slipping his hand down, rubbing against his hips. “Take these off, H,” he whispered, pushing at the fabric.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod, reaching for the hem of his pants and shoving them down his thighs, the fabric bunching around his knees. He whimpered when he felt the clothed curve of David’s cock brush against his arse, and he grinded back against him. “Yours, too,” he told him, trying to reach behind himself to get a grip on David’s joggers and pull them down.

David laughed, fingers slipping away from Harry’s cock as he reached for his wrists. “Grab the counter,” he told him, guiding his wrists towards the counter. He then reached for his own trackies, pushing them past his hips with his pants, the loose fabric pooling around his ankles; he gripped Harry’s hips with his hands, fingers splaying across the soft skin of his arse and slipping a little, his mouth falling open in a little gasp when he realized— “Fuck, still wet aren’t you, H,” he groaned, sliding his fingertips between Harry’s cheeks and feeling the remaining lube there, causing Harry to cry out. 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, bowing his head forward and pushing his hips back, wanting more of whatever David was offering. “This morning— We—“

David cursed again, the pad of his thumb pushing in to the first knuckle, causing Harry to cry out. He watched in awe the way Harry pushed back against him, trying to spread his legs a little bit. “So beautiful,” he whispered, slipping his thumb out and reaching for his cock, the thick, wet head brushing across Harry’s pink hole and causing the boy to shiver.

“Oh, God,” Harry groaned, tossing his head back as his back arched, wanting _more._ “Fuck, Becks— Please—“

“Shh,” David soothed him, pressing his lips to the base of Harry’s neck, just against his hairline. He guided his cock across the back of Harry’s thighs, nestling between them, the head pressing against his perineum and causing Harry to whine, shamelessly pushing his hips back, wanting— _needing_ more. David thrust his hips forward just a little, Harry’s head falling onto his shoulder, his bright green eyes squeezed tightly shut, knuckles going white with a death-grip on the counter. He held Harry firmly in place, thrusting his hips forward again, Harry’s thighs creating a delicious pressure all around him, the head leaking and catching on his rim with every other thrust. 

“ _Yes,_ ” Harry panted, crying out when he felt David’s long fingers wrap around his cock, tugging and twisting, his free hand wrapping around Harry’s stomach to keep him balanced. He felt David’s breath hot against the side of his neck, hips pressed against his arse, thumb swiping over the wet head of his cock. 

“God, you feel so good, H,” David grunted, hips thrusting faster between Harry’s thighs, the trace amounts of lube from his morning romp with Liam just enough to create a friction that was just on this side of too-rough. He gripped Harry’s hip tighter, hard enough to bruise, as he jerked him off quickly, knowing Harry was close, if his pants and whimpers were anything to go by.

Harry reached back with one hand, grabbing David’s hip and digging his fingers in as he felt the pressure in his stomach start to well up, so close to the edge. “Fuck, David, want you to fuck me so bad,” Harry panted out as David’s thumb swiped across the head of his cock and he came, a cry of David’s name leaving his lips. 

David groaned, his wet hand gripping the inside of Harry’s thigh as his hips jerked forward once, twice, and he came, painting the inside of Harry’s thighs with a grunt. He rested his forehead against Harry’s shoulder, trying to even out his breathing, feeling Harry’s stomach rise and fall rapidly beneath his hand. 

Harry sucked in a deep breath, thighs shaking as he slowly came to, flexing his fingertips. “That was—“

_”Brooklyn! Not fair! Give it back!”_

Harry startled at the sound of Cruz’s voice out in the garden, mere feet from his guest house, and he felt David take a step back. He turned around slowly, biting at his lower lip, before he met David’s eyes.

“You never call me David,” he said quietly, pulling his pants and trackies back over his hips. 

Harry’s cheeks flushed and he looked down at his feet, slowly reaching for the hem of his pants and pulling them back up. “I—“

David took a step forward, reaching a hand up to cup Harry’s cheek, thumb trailing across his lips. “I like when you call me David.”

“I—“

David cut him off, leaning forward and pressing their lips together in a slow, chaste kiss, pulling away after a moment. “I like it,” he repeated.

Harry smiled slowly, biting the inside of his cheek as David pulled back,. “Me, too.”

“Should do it more often,” David said quietly, tilting Harry’s chin up with a knuckle and pressing their lips together again. He pushed Harry back up against the counter, biting at his bottom lip, fingertips pressed against his hipbone. 

Harry felt himself blush as David pulled away once more. “I—“

_”Hazza! Have you seen dad!”_

Harry shook as he heard Brooklyn yell, pounding on the door to the guesthouse. His eyes widened as he pushed David back, walking by him and throwing clothes off of the couch until he found a pair of joggers and pulling them on. “I— You should— We—“

“It’s alright, H,” David promised, brushing his lips quickly against Harry’s cheek before walking over to the door and throwing it open. “Do you lads always cause such a ruckus when Harry’s trying to sleep?” he asked with a grin.

Brooklyn shrugged. “Hazza never sleeps in this late.”

David laughed. “Yeah, alright, you got me there.”

“What are you doing here? You never visit Hazza,” Cruz frowned, eying his father. 

“Finalizing plans for when we go back to L.A. next week. You lot looking forward to it?”

“I am,” Romeo sad with a wave of his hands. “The weather here is sh—“

“Romeo!” Hazza cut him off with wide eyes and a shake of a finger. “You better watch your gob with your father around, yeah?”

David shook his head slowly, sending Harry a fond smile. “He’s right, lads.”

“Sorry, H,” Romeo muttered.

Harry felt himself involuntarily shudder at the mere thought of his nickname coming from David’s lips, could easily remember—and would never forget—the way it sounded when he came, fingers bruising Harry’s hips and— He nodded, making himself smile. “Thank you.”

“All right, you lads go play, leave H alone for a little bit. He deserves a bit of a break after the cupcake incident, yeah?”

Brooklyn snorted. “Yeah, probably needs his rest. We were a bit too much to handle yesterday.”

“Nah, I can handle anything,” Harry promised with a grin before David ushered his boys away from the guesthouse.

David bit his lip as he turned back to Harry, sending him a wink before he slipped out of the guesthouse after the boys, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Harry swallowed and it took him less than five seconds before he sank down onto the couch, unsure of whether or not he should be laughing or crying. “God, what have I done…”

 

+

 

Harry expected things to change. Maybe not, like, in a huge or noticeable way, more like something subtle, something that was noticed only if one was really paying attention. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was for nothing to change. It wasn’t like— Harry didn’t expect David to start whisking him off into dark corners of the hallway and snogging him senseless (he sort of was) or late night swims when everyone was asleep that led to their pants coming off and hands or mouths on other, various body parts (he was) and, like, he really wasn’t expecting David to sneak into the guesthouse in the middle of the night, crawling up the length of Harry’s little bed until they were completely consuming one another (except, well, yeah, he was) or anything. 

So when he ended up on a plane flying first class to L.A. with Victoria by his side, Harper in his lap, and David nowhere to be seen, that was when he let himself feel disappointed. He barely remembered Victoria telling him that David would be flying out a day or two after them, that he had to get a few other things sorted out, that he would be joining them in a day or two. Which led to Harry landing at LAX with Victoria and the kids, being carted off in one of their private cars to their L.A. house where Harry would spend the next month, in close quarters, with the man he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“M’telling you, Li, I thought it would be like you said, you know,” Harry told him, shifting the phone to his other ear, pinning it between his shoulder, as he unpacked his bag. He had been in L.A. for four days and still hadn’t gotten around to unpacking, was pretty bad at taking his time to settle in, but he finally managed to get around to it, even organized the drawers for once. 

_”Harry, don’t tell me—“_

“I’m not, Li,” Harry said, determined, kicking his empty suitcase under the bed before sitting down on the mattress with a sigh. “Like, I want to, yeah? But he won’t— He won’t even look at me, so.”

_”Do you think he regrets it?”_

Harry shrugged before remembering that Liam couldn’t exactly _see_ him. “Yeah, I—I mean, maybe? I—I mean, he probably just, like, wanted to see what it was like, yeah? And now that—now that he has, he decided he doesn’t…” he trailed off, licking his lips. “He doesn’t want me anymore. If he ever did in the first place.”

_”I don’t think he was, like, using you or anything, Haz, if that helps at all.”_

“It doesn’t,” Harry told him sadly. “Like, I should’ve listened to you, yeah? You knew it wouldn’t end well. And, like, I haven’t told anyone, and m’not going to, but—I just feel like a stupid kid, yeah?”

 _”Don’t,”_ Liam whispered. _”It’ll be alright, yeah? Like, give it time, Haz. You’ll be good, yeah?”_

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, quickly, too quickly, and he nodded. “M’gonna go give Harper a bath and put her to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

_”Of course.”_

Harry couldn’t wipe the frown from his face as he hung up with Liam, tossing his phone onto the bedside table. He changed quickly into a pair of joggers and a soft cotton tee that he had taken from Liam before slipping out of his room. It was just late enough that Harper would let Harry give her a bath without too much trouble, but early enough that she might be able to fight off the jet lag that Harry knew was affecting her and, subsequently, everyone else in the house. But he stopped dead in his tracks as he passed David’s office, seeing a flicker of light beneath the door and voices through the crack, and he went silent. Harry didn’t even know David had already flown in, or maybe he had been too distracted, he wasn’t sure. But David was there, in L.A., sat in his office with Victoria sitting across from him and frowning. 

“I just don’t want it to be like it was before, David,” Victoria told him. “I’d rather it be someone I know, someone we both trust. I don’t want stories getting out.”

“I know. I don’t—I won’t do that to you, Vic, not again,” he promised. 

Victoria nodded slowly. “We can’t tell the kids. Maybe— Maybe this will help us, long term,” she offered. “Maybe we just need a change of pace.”

“Maybe,” David agreed quietly. 

“We’ll do it differently this time,” Victoria decided. “You can— You can pick someone, someone close, someone we trust, if you—if you want to.”

“Vic—“

“I know we haven’t been fair to one another,” she continued. “I’ve had my indiscretions, you’ve had your own. But I think we should be honest with one another, this time around. That’s— That’s what we need. I told you about mine, and if you have anyone—“

“Harry.”

Harry froze, thinking for a moment that he had been discovered, found out, whatever, but it couldn’t be, because he was completely hidden. And the tone in David’s voice didn’t suggest anything other than reluctance, something that made Harry’s stomach twist.

“What?” Victoria asked quietly, not angry, more confused.

“I—“ David bit the inside of his cheek. “Once, last week, but. We could… I’d like to, again,” he admitted. 

“Oh,” she breathed out. “I— That makes sense…”

“But if you don’t—“

“No, it makes sense,” she repeated. “I— That’s okay. I—I think that’s a smart choice, actually. He’s loyal, and honest, and he’s— I think he could be good for you.”

David smiled, just a little bit, and he nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll— We’ll talk and go from there, yeah?”

Harry swallowed as he forced himself to step away from the door and down to Harper’s room. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, not entirely, not easily, with David and Victoria’s conversation running through his mind. And he couldn’t help but wonder if he and David would get to have that conversation, was curious as to how it would go, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that he could actually get his hands on David again. 

 

+

 

It was two days later when David and Harry finally spoke, almost ten days after what happened in the guest house, and it wasn’t like Harry was _avoiding_ him after the conversation he overheard between David and Victoria, except he kind of totally was. Harry stumbled into Harper’s room at Victoria’s request—he was going to take the girl out for ice cream, maybe go to a park, just have a fun day with the little girl because she had always been his favorite so it wasn’t exactly a _hardship,_ but David was there, zipping up her jacket and pressing his lips to her nose. And Harry’s breath caught in his throat, felt something tighten in his chest just at the sight, and he leaned against the doorway, just taking in the scene. 

“I can practically feel you staring at me, H,” David said quietly, picking Harper up in his arms and turning around, sending him a warm smile. “Good?”

Harry nodded, sending David what he hoped was a friendly smile and not a _I miss you so much when can we kiss again by the way is it okay with your wife if you fuck me?_ type of smile. “Yeah, you?”

“Yeah,” David told him, stepping closer when Harper started reaching for Harry.

Harry laughed at Harper’s enthusiasm and little cries of his name, and he held his arms out.

“Think she likes you more than me,” David said with a laugh, letting Harper climb out of his hands and into Harry’s arms. 

“Not at all,” Harry promised him as Harper wrapped her little arms around his neck, and he tried to ignore how domestic the scene was, how familiar, how _right._

David reached a hand out, tentative, brushing across the back of Harper’s head before making way to Harry’s jaw, just briefly. “Can we talk later?”

Harry swallowed as David pulled his hand back, shoving it into his pocket. “About?” he asked quietly, even though there was no way he could say no.

“Us,” David told him simply, knowing there was no other way to put it and, well, that was all contingent upon whether or not Harry wanted there to be an _us._

“Us?” Harry repeated hopefully, feeling himself smile just a little bit.

David nodded. “Later?”

“Later,” he agreed with a nod before Harper started wiggling in his arms. “M’gonna take her out for a bit but—I’ll see you?”

“Of course, H,” he promised, brushing his knuckles across Harry’s cheekbone. “See you in a bit.”

 

+

 

Harry managed to keep it together until he got back to the house, managed to keep himself together until he got Harper washed up and put to bed, managed to not let it _bother_ him. He brushed past David’s office, ignoring him when he yelled out Harry’s name, and escaped to his room, shutting the door softly. It wasn’t late, but he didn’t know where the boys were, if they were out with Victoria or off doing their own thing, but he didn’t want to be _rude._

But— He felt like he was jumping out of his own skin. He pulled his sweater off and tossed it aside, kicking off his boots, leaving himself in a thin white shirt and dark skinny jeans, and he pushed his hair out of his face, sucking in a deep breath. He paced the length of the bedroom once, twice, countless times until he heard a soft knock at the door, and he swallowed.

“H? You okay?”

Harry found himself at the door before he even realized it, swinging it open and throwing his arms around David’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. 

David, for his part, barely reacted, rather he wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, the other going to his cheek, thumb brushing across his cheekbone as he let Harry take control of the kiss. He didn’t even realize Harry was crying until he felt a tear, then two, touch his hand, and he slowly pulled back from the kiss to see Harry sniffling and trying to hide his face. “Talk to me,” David whispered, fingertips gentle against Harry’s cheek. “Please.”

Harry took a step back, hands dropping from David’s neck to cross over his chest, as if he were trying to shrink away from David’s gaze. “I— Today, tonight was the first time I felt like I couldn’t do my job,” he said quietly, eyebrows furrowed together, like he was trying to piece his words together perfectly. 

“What happened?” he asked, his voice soft, gentle, trying not to pry. 

“I— There were so many paps, David,” Harry breathed out, shaking his head. “And they were—they were _everywhere._ And Harper started crying, she was so scared, and I—I was scared, like, what if—what if something happened? What if I couldn’t, like, protect her? I—I didn’t want to let you down.”

“You never could, Harry,” David promised, taking a step forward and reaching for Harry’s wrists, untangling his hands from across his chest, and bringing his knuckles to his lips; he pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s knuckles, sending him a soft, reassuring smile. “Are you alright?”

Harry nodded quickly. “Harper’s in bed—“

“Harper’s young, she’s resilient; she’ll be fine by the morning. What about _you_?” he asked.

Harry swallowed. “How can—“ he cut himself off, biting the inside of his cheek, his heart racing in his chest, a little from the adrenaline from earlier and a bit more from his underlying anger towards the man in front of him. “You haven’t talked to me in over a week. How do you think I am?”

“H—“

“If you thought it was a mistake, you should’ve told me,” Harry said, the heat behind his words fading off at the end. “I—I know I’m young but, like, I could handle it. But you—you shut me out. And that’s not fair.”

“You’re right.”

“And you—you have a wife, someone I adore, someone who’s a big part of my life—“

“H—“

“And we—I mean, it was—I—“

“Harry—“

“I wanna be with you,” Harry breathed out. “I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I— I thought, like, one and done, yeah? Get it out of my system or whatever but, I— I can’t stop thinking about it, or you, and I— I wanna be with you.”

David smiled at him softly, something Harry wasn’t expecting, and took a step forward, their chests pressed together. “I know,” he told him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “And we can.”

“We can?” Harry asked with a frown, disbelief evident in his voice. “You—You have a _wife,_ ” he reminded him, not wanting to let on that he had overheard part of their conversation a couple of days before.

“We have an agreement,” he said slowly. 

“But— I—“

David lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. She—Victoria—knows, about us, about last week, and… We’ve come to an arrangement,” he repeated. 

“An arrangement?”

“Yeah,” David affirmed cupping Harry’s jaw with his hand. “It’ll be between us. We haven’t been happy, not for a while, and she’s found someone. We agreed to be honest with each other from now on, in that respect, take some time away from one another. So since she has someone, then…I can, as well. If you’d like,” he added, because he didn’t want Harry to feel like he didn’t have a choice, couldn’t do that to him.

Harry bit on his bottom lip, his stomach jumping just at hearing David explain that they could _be_ together, and it felt too good to be true, but he knew it wasn’t a lie since he had heard the entire conversation himself. And if Victoria was dabbling on the side, then so could David, and David had picked _him._ “Yeah?” At David’s nod, Harry felt himself smile, and he nodded himself. “Yeah, I—I’d like that.”

 

+

 

It was gradual from then, little changes that hard Harry’s heart pounding in his chest over even the most casual glance or touch. It took less than a day for him to stop feeling awkward around Victoria, things only going back to _normal_ when she gripped Harry’s arm, squeezing reassuringly and smiling at him as he helped Harper get ready for the flight to New York—Victoria was taking the kids there for a couple of days, leaving David and Harry alone in L.A., and Harry wasn’t an idiot, he knew _why_ —and telling Harry to take care of David, that it was alright, that she wanted them to be happy. Harry hugged her tightly before she left, asking if she was positive that he wasn’t needed, and the smile she sent him was the only reassurance he needed. 

The L.A. house was blissfully empty then, save for David, and Harry spent his day cooking and cleaning while David worked out, had his meetings and photo shoots or whatever he did during the day, Harry wasn’t exactly sure. By the time David got home and out of the shower, Harry had set dinner out on the back porch, candles lit and lining the railing, something proper and romantic, causing David to smile as he stepped out onto the porch, joggers slung low on his hips as he towel-dried his hair.

“You went all out, H,” David breathed, tossing his towel to the side and joining Harry on the porch swing, thighs touching, and it was the most contact they’d had since their previous conversation.

And, fuck, Harry felt like his skin was positively on _fire,_ and he found himself scooting closer to David, thighs touching from hip to knee, and he nodded. “Made your favorite,” he told him. “I—I thought—“

David cut him off with a quiet laugh, shaking his head, because he couldn’t remember the last time he had a romantic meal—he and Victoria were always too busy, or it was always something the chef had prepared, which was home cooked, but not exactly the _same._ And then there was Harry, young and pretty and perfect Harry, who took care of his kids and his wife and still found time to make him dinner and— Harry was the best choice David had ever made. “It’s wonderful, Harry, thank you,” he whispered, leaning over to press his lips to the gentle curve of Harry’s jaw, hearing and feeling the younger boy’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Yeah? Not too cheesy?” he asked with a frown, eyes darting around at the candles, and suddenly he felt—

“Wonderful,” David repeated, fingers squeezing gently at Harry’s thigh as he leaned in to brush their lips together, reassuring him that it was _perfect._ “Thank you.”

Harry was positively beaming as David pulled away, cheeks flushed, biting at his bottom lip, looking at his bare feet where they were splayed next to David’s on the expensive rug that lined the porch. “I—I thought, maybe, like…dinner? And, um,” he trailed off, swallowing, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “If—If you wanted, I mean, like…no—no pressure. I—I understand if you don’t—“

“I _do,_ ” David interrupted, cutting off Harry’s rambling before the boy could embarrass himself even further, though David saw it as more endearing than anything else, and he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him again, still soft and gentle, until Harry was leaning closer, whining when he pulled away. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed quietly, reaching up to brush his thumb across his lip, still wet from where David’s mouth had been, and he couldn’t help but want that mouth elsewhere, everywhere, anywhere. 

David slid his hand soothingly over Harry’s thigh, his thumb brushing over the inseam at his inner thigh and resting there. “Then I’ll take you to bed,” he promised. 

Harry nodded slowly, meeting David’s hazel eyes, and he involuntarily, subconsciously licked at his lips. “Yeah, that— Yeah.” Except Harry wasn’t hungry, not really, but he did sit there and watch as David devoured the meal Harry had painstakingly prepared for him, chicken parmesan and bread and wine, all of his favorite things. Harry only ate when prompted, when David would bring the fork to his mouth, making sure Harry could enjoy the meal as well. Harry mainly stuck with his wine, the red staining his lips and coloring his cheeks, and he ended up with one leg tucked under him and the other across David’s thighs. He reached up at one point, thumb brushing cross David’s lips to catch the stray bit of sauce there, breath catching when David reached for his wrist, holding it in place as he wrapped his lips around Harry’s thumb. Harry went silent as David pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb, and it took him less than five seconds to come back to his senses and lean in, pressing his lips against David’s. 

David dropped the fork, hoping it landed somewhere near the plate, but he really didn’t _care,_ because he then had a lapful of Harry. Harry climbed onto his lap, pushing David’s shoulders back against the porch swing, hands trailing over his chest like he couldn’t believe he could actually _touch_ him. 

And, fuck, he _could,_ Harry could, Harry had every right to touch every part of David’s body, and David could even touch _his._ He felt like he was going out of his mind, consumed with this new information and the desire to do just that—touch every part of David that there was. And he pulled back, pressing his lips against David’s throat before trailing down, breathing over his nipple, before climbing off of his lap and dropping to his knees between David’s thighs.

David groaned, hands moving to grip Harry’s shoulders, torn between wanting to push him back and assure him that he didn’t _have_ to and pulling him closer, wanting to feel his mouth, wanting to feel his everything. “H—“

“Fuck,” Harry cursed, reaching for the drawstring of his joggers and loosening them enough to reach in and pull his cock out, half-hard and interested already, and, fuck, his mouth was practically watering at the sight. “I—I need to—“

“You don’t have to, Christ, Harry,” David breathed out as Harry leaned in, burying his nose against him, caught between his hip and thigh muscles jerking as he felt Harry’s tongue trace the skin.

Harry pulled back with a whine, rubbing his hands over his face, over his flushed cheeks, his heart hammering in his chest. “Fuck, I—I want— I have— I need to taste you,” he whispered, “want it so bad.” 

David chuckled softly at how eager Harry was, pressing his lips to Harry’s palm when he reached up to rub his hands over David’s cheeks. “We got all night, H,” he promised, reaching for his wrists and holding them in place before leaning down to kiss him. “All night.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment before he leaned in again, pressing his lips against David’s with a weak little sigh. When David released his hands, he scratched his fingers through the scruff over his jaw, over the ink on his chest, and settling at his hips. He pulled away slowly, nails digging into the skin of David’s hips when David bit at his lower lip, fingers tangling in the curls at the base of his neck. 

“So damn pretty, H,” David murmured, biting at Harry’s lip again before letting the younger boy pull away and sink down to the floor again, pressing his lips against the soft trail of hair beneath his navel. 

Harry wasted no time wrapping his long fingers around David’s cock, jerking him off slowly before leaning in and wrapping his lips around the head. He shivered when he felt David’s fingers card through his hair, and he practically moaned at feeling the heavy weight against his tongue. He could barely concentrate between the way David’s fingers were massaging his scalp and the way David’s cock was almost too big for his mouth; he relaxed his jaw as best as he could, running his tongue along the wet head, his fingers jerking off what he couldn’t reach. 

David cursed above him, sliding his hand down the back of Harry’s neck and just holding him in place, resisting the urge to push him down a little bit more, the urge to feel Harry’s throat tighten around his prick was almost too much to control. He bit his lip when he caught Harry’s eyes, looking up at him from underneath long, dark eyelashes, cheeks flushed, and he cursed again, gently pushing at Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry pulled off with a wet sound, David’s cock falling from his swollen lips, and he instinctively ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “Wha—“

“Wanna take you to bed,” David whispered, his voice rough and thick, and he pulled Harry in for a quick kiss, nipping at his bottom lip because he couldn’t help himself. He stood up slowly, pulling Harry with him, and he tugged his joggers up over his hips, sucking in a deep breath.

Harry wrapped his arms around David’s neck, leaning up onto the balls of his feet to press his lips against the front of David’s neck, over his pulse point. “Yeah, take me to bed,” he repeated, whimpering when David’s hands spanned he back of his thighs and lifted him easily; he wrapped his legs around David’s waist, shamelessly grinding down against him. “David, fuck.”

David wrapped one arm around Harry’s waist, holding him there as he slowly walked them back into the house. It was hard enough to stay focused with Harry grinding his prick against his stomach, the rough denim of his jeans rough against his abdomen, but it was even worse with Harry’s lips on his neck, biting and bruising at every inch they could. It felt like it took them forever to get up the stairs and into Harry’s room, and not only because David had to stop at almost every surface to shove Harry up against the wall and kiss him within an inch of his life. He paused halfway up the stairs, balancing Harry on the handrail as he messed with his jeans enough just to get Harry’s cock out to jerk him off and relieve some of the pressure building up. 

Harry was panting into David’s ear by the time his back came into contact with the door of his bedroom, and he barely registered David kicking it shut behind him before he was being carried to and deposited on the bed. He spread his legs wide as David settled between them, rocking his hips forward until Harry could feel the thick line of his cock through the fabric of his jeans. “I—I need—Drawer,” he told him, pointing towards the nightstand. 

With a nod, David pulled away and stood up, walking over to the nightstand and rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for, a mostly full bottle of lube and a condom. When he turned back towards the bed, Harry was kicking his jeans and pants aside and pulling his shirt over his head. David swallowed as he watched Harry, and it took him a fraction of a second to push his joggers and pants down his hips, nudging them aside with his foot before stepping back between Harry’s legs.

Harry smiled softly, lying back against the bed and wrapping his legs around David’s thighs. “C’mon,” he whispered, laughing softly when David climbed between his legs, their cocks brushing together as he leaned in for a kiss. He slid an arm around David’s neck, holding him in place while they kissed until Harry couldn’t focus, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even remember his own name. He broke away from the kiss with a broken gasp when he felt David’s fingers, slick with lube, rubbing against his rim and pressing in. Harry’s back arched off of the bed, hands falling to the sheets and twisting in the fabric as David’s mouth trailed down the front of his neck, lips wrapping around one of his nipples. Harry cried out, eyes squeezing shut as David lapped and nipped at his nipple, switching to the other when Harry started cursing. 

“Good?” he asked, voice scratchy as he pushed his fingers in a little deeper, stroking across the tight little bundle of nerves that had Harry shivering and writhing against the sheets.

“ _Yes,_ ” Harry moaned, rocking his hips down. “I—I want—Another, David, please,” he breathed out, mouth falling open in a gasp when David slowly worked another finger into him. And Harry was a _mess_ with David’s fingers against his prostate and his lips around his nipple, his cock smearing wet against his stomach, and he knew he was close, but he didn’t want to come just yet, not without David inside of him. “David—David, fuck, please, m’ready, m’ready,” he babbled, forcing his eyes open and slowly, sluggishly reaching for David’s wrist to stop him. “C’mon, want you to fuck me.”

David pressed his lips to the center of Harry’s chest, trailing down, tongue darting out to lick at the wet, leaking head of his cock, before he pulled back with a nod. He wiped his fingers off on the sheets, reaching for the condom and sliding it on, spreading a little bit more lube over himself, before grabbing the back of Harry’s thighs and pushing them up. Harry bit his bottom lip, holding back a moan as David rubbed the head of his cock against his pink hole, just sliding across the skin and making him twitch. 

“Wait, wait,” Harry breathed out when he felt the head of David’s cock slowly press into him, and he forced himself to sit up, digging his nails into David’s biceps. “Wanna ride you.”

David nodded quickly, cursing softly when Harry pushed at his shoulders; he let the younger boy push him onto his back, and his hands instantly reached for Harry’s hips when he climbed on top of him. Harry reached behind himself, fingers gripping David’s cock and pressing it against his hole, slowly sliding down. His mouth fell open in a gasp, David’s grip tightening on his hips as he sank down until he was fully seated, hesitating, a shuddering breath leaving his lips. 

“Fuck,” Harry bit out as he waited for his body to adjust, slowly rocking his hips because it was so _much_ and so _good._ He lifted his hips up, just a little, pushing them back down and punching a soft grunt out of David, and the corner of Harry’s lips quirked upward. David’s hands were tight on his hips and he let him lift him up and pull him back down, grinding his hips down in a slow circle, which only succeeded in teasing himself more than David. 

David cursed as Harry rocked his hips, Harry’s hands planted on his abdomen, and he couldn’t help but think about how absolutely beautiful Harry looked on top of him, riding his cock. The thought, those words, must’ve left his mouth at some point because Harry smiled down at him, cheeks flushed at the compliment, and David decided he always wanted to see Harry like that, flushed and happy and full of _him._ He gripped his hips tighter, planting his feet on the bed, as he fucked up into Harry harder; Harry’s head lolled back, mouth falling open, as he let David use him however he wanted.

“So good,” Harry panted out, words slurring as David fucked against his prostate, his thighs shaking as he nearly lost his balance, but David didn’t let him falter. Harry was a mess, moans and gasps leaving his pretty pink lips as he came without warning, David’s thumbs pressing harshly against his hipbones, a cry of David’s name leaving his lips as he swayed forward.

David wrapped an arm around Harry’s back, gently rolling him over, his cock still nestled deep inside of him, and he went to move, but Harry wrapped his legs around his waist. “H—“

“Feels good, wanna feel you,” Harry told him, words slurred and rushed together, and he reached for his cock, wrapping his fingers around himself. “C’mon.”

“H—Fuck,” David cursed, but he was smiling, knowing he couldn’t say _no_ to him.

“C’mon,” Harry repeated with a grin, making a show out of jerking himself off, reaching up to trail his fingertips across David’s chest and pinch one of his nipples. “Show me what you got, old man,” he teased.

David laughed. “Old man?” he asked with a sharp thrust of his hips, the force of his movement knocking Harry up the bed a couple of inches. “Show you old man,” he promised, planting his palm flat on the bed as he thrust his hips forward again, building a steady, bruising rhythm that had Harry panting beneath him, hips arched off of the bed. 

“Fuck,” Harry bit out, the heels of his feet digging into the small of David’s back as he snapped his nips forward. Harry’s fingers tightened around his cock, thumb sliding across the wet head, and the stimulation was too much, he was already close, and he felt like his body was on fire, like he was going to combust or black out or _something._

“Feel so good, H,” David breathed out, leaning in to press his lips against the front of Harry’s throat, the change in position causing the angle of his thrusts to change, the head of his cock nudging against Harry’s prostate with every thrust. He scraped his teeth along the side of Harry’s throat, over his pulse point, and he could feel Harry’s knuckles across his abdomen with each jerk of his wrist. 

Harry whined when David knocked his hand away from his cock, the whine quickly turning into a loud moan when David started jerking him off, tight and fast, like it was a competition to see how fast he could make Harry come. Harry reached his arms around David’s back, nails digging into his tanned flesh, his back arching off of the bed as David fucked into him, the rhythm offsetting his fist around his cock. 

“Come for me, Harry, fuck,” David whispered against the front of Harry’s neck, feeing Harry’s thighs spasm around his waist, and he wasn’t surprised when Harry cried out, spilling over his fist. David bit at the soft skin of Harry’s neck before moving down to the center of his chest and to one of his nipples, licking and biting at the small bud when Harry’s fingers tangled in his hair, his legs falling from his waist slowly. He planted both palms flat on the bed as he thrust his hips forward, quickening the pace as he felt his orgasm well up in the pit of his stomach, feeling Harry clench tightly around him. 

Harry whimpered at the rough scrape of David’s stubble across his chest, the sin around his nipples red and raised from it, but it didn’t stop him from trying to get closer to David in any way that he could. “C’mon, David,” he breathed out, “wanna feel you come in me, wanna feel you come.”

And when David came, it wasn’t with a grunt or a cry of Harry’s name, it was nearly silent as his hips snapped forward then stilled, his teeth sinking into the soft, sensitive skin just above Harry’s collarbone. He paused for only a moment before pulling out of Harry, disposing of the condom as quickly as he could, before collapsing back onto the bed between Harry’s legs. 

Harry nudged at David’s calf with his toes, a soft, hazy smile on his face. “Roll over,” he pressed, nudging at his leg again.

David grinned but did as Harry requested, rolling over onto his back, barely blinking an eye at the way Harry curled around him like a cat, throwing a leg over his waist. His fingers instantly found Harry’s curls, threading through the locks and causing the younger boy to practically purr against him. 

Harry hummed happily, nuzzling the side of David’s throat. “Guess you showed me, huh?” he asked with a quiet little laugh, peering up at David from underneath his eyelashes. He watched as David grinned, and he climbed on top of him, molding their chests together. “Hi.”

“Hi, H,” David whispered, brushing his knuckles across Harry’s cheek. “Goddamn, you’re so beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Harry said quietly, pinching David’s side to try to distract him from the way his comment had Harry flushing. “Wanna go again?” he asked after a short pause.

David burst out laughing, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist and rolling them over until he was settled between his legs again. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“There are worse ways to go, right?”

 

+

It was a couple of hours later, after round two or three or _whatever,_ after David had held Harry’s wrists down when he came, littering little bruises all across his hips and thighs after he blew him, to Harry seeing stars as he flexed his fingers around the headboard, knees red and scratchy from where he had spent too much time on them, David’s cock pressed deep inside of him, fingers tight on the inside of his thighs and— Well, he couldn’t really remember _how_ many times, not that it mattered at all. 

Anyway— Harry climbed out of bed, pressing his lips to David’s forehead, before sneaking out onto the patio, mobile in hand. It was just half one in the morning, so somewhere around nine or ten for Liam—Harry had never been great with time differences, but he figured Liam would be awake anyway. The mobile rang for what seemed like forever until Liam actually picked up.

_”Haz? You okay?”_

“I’m great, Li,” Harry admitted with a smile that he knew his best mate couldn’t see. “Did I wake you?”

_”No, just got in from a run. How’s L.A.?”_

“Beautiful,” he told him with a happy sigh. “Warm and lovely. Brooklyn has a photo shoot tomorrow. And Mrs. B has a big party coming up for her line. It’s going to be a busy week.”

_”And David?”_

Harry felt himself wince, but he couldn’t lie to Liam, didn’t _want_ to. After all, David was the whole reason that he was calling Liam so late…or, well, early. “Don’t be mad, Li,” he whispered.

_”What happened?”_

“We… Um, well, we, uh—“

 _”Slept together?”_

Harry could practically hear the way Liam was rolling his eyes, and he sighed. “Yeah, um—“

_”Jesus, Harry.”_

“No, listen,” he insisted, glancing back towards the room to make sure David was still sleeping—he was. “He has an arrangement with Mrs. B, okay? I heard it all. He explained it to me. We’re… I mean, it’s alright,” he told him. “She knows, and it’s alright.” He hesitated when Liam was silent for a few seconds, and he knew how it sounded, knew he sounded crazy, like he was making any sort of excuse to sleep with a married man, but—it wasn’t like _that._

_”It’s your choice, Harry. I just want you to be careful.”_

“I know. And I am,” he promised. “I am.”

_”Just, like, shit. What if the kids found out? Like… Just be careful.”_

“I will be,” Harry told him. “And… They’re not planning on telling the kids, I mean. Mrs. B has…someone, m’not sure who, actually. And then I’m with David, like, for now, anyway,” he said with a shrug. 

_”I just want you to be happy, Haz. But my class is about to start, so m’gonna go, yeah?”_

“Are you mad at me?”

_”Not at all.”_

The tone of Liam’s voice was that soft, quiet sort, the one Harry recognized as completely honest, and he was thankful for that—he didn’t want his best mate mad at him. “Have fun in class.”

_”Text me later, Haz. Get some rest. M’sure you’re tired.”_

Harry rolled his eyes, a fond little smile on his face. “Bye, Li,” he said quietly before hanging up his mobile, pausing briefly before he headed back inside to the bed. He watched David shuffle about for a minute before climbing in next to him, David instantly wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in closer, pressing his lips to the back of his neck. Harry reached for the blanket, pulling it up to his chin, David’s fingers rubbing softly at his stomach, and Harry drifted off into a peaceful slumber. 

 

+

 

And if everything felt like it had changed overnight, well, it sort of _did._ And that wasn’t to say that David and Harry were being overly affectionate, because they weren’t, but it was little touches when Harry was making tea, a hand on the shoulder if they all went out shopping, a quick kiss when the boys weren’t paying attention. And it was—it was _great,_ really, because Harry finally felt that overwhelming, all-encompassing sort of happiness that he had always been searching for, and it was perfect. 

When they got back to London, David snogged him silly in the hallway, hands gripping tightly at his bum, the back of his thighs, before Harry pushed him away with a laugh.

“You promised the boys a kickabout, and I promised Mrs. B that I would show her how to make that desert the boys love,” he told him. 

“Another cupcake incident?” David asked with a grin, raising an eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I learned my lesson after that one. Though I’m sure Mrs. B is a much better student than Romeo. No offense,” he added with a smile.

David laughed, pressing his lips to Harry’s temple. “Alright, go have fun,” he told him. “We have all night.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed, the way they always did whenever David got like that with him, a little secretive and dirty, a glint in his eye that Harry couldn’t always place, and he nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “We do.”

David took a step back, holding out his arm and gesturing towards the kitchen. “Off you go, menace,” he told him, slapping at Harry’s bum as he walked away.

Harry tried to glare at him over his shoulder and failed, settled for laughing instead. “Pace yourself, old man,” he replied cheekily with a wink, and he turned around, practically skipping into the kitchen where he saw Mrs. B standing at the counter, a cookbook in hand, dressed in a fitted black jumpsuit and five inch Louboutins—leave it to her to look effortlessly classy while making desert. “Am I underdressed?”

Mrs. B looked over her shoulder and laughed, glancing down at herself. “Oh, of course not, Harry, you—“ she hesitated when she realized Harry was laughing. “You’re so cheeky.”

Harry lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “So I’ve been told,” he drawled, stepping up to the counter and watching as she set the cookbook down. “Do you have all the ingredients?”

“I do,” she told him with a purse of her lips, eyes scanning the counter. “And I decided against baking. Let’s order something!”

“Not a chance,” he told her with a smile. “I’m gonna teach you, and you’ll do brilliantly. Are you ready?”

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “But let’s do it.”

Harry smiled brightly as he opened the cookbook, helping Victoria toss all of the ingredients together. She was a natural, honestly, kneading the dough and lining the pie plate with the crust, pinching it over the edge just perfectly. And with Harry’s help, they had created a lovely apple pie, Harry placing it on a rack in the oven and Victoria setting the timer before washing off her hands. 

“That wasn’t too bad,” she told him, drying her hands before stepping over to the oven, flipping on the light and peering inside, watching the pie bake.

“You did wonderfully,” Harry said, washing his hands and leaning back against the counter.

“You know,” she started, reaching for an empty wine glass and a bottle of red on the counter, pouring a glass for Harry and one for herself. “I wanted to thank you.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. B,” he assured her, “I love baking.”

“Not for the baking lesson,” she said quietly, meeting his eyes with a shy little smile. “For David. I—I know you make him happy,” she started. “And I know it’s an…unconventional arrangement, but…you make him happy. And it’s good for him, for all of us.”

Harry smiled softly, looking down at his feet. “Are you happy, too?”

“I am,” she promised. “And you?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good,” she decided, walking over to him and reaching for his hand, squeezing his fingers. “I’m happy he picked you, Harry. The two of you fit. You’re a part of the family.”

“Am I?” he asked, eyes wide and a little hopeful, because he might’ve been their nanny for years, but it was different to be part of the _family._

Victoria smiled. “Of course you are.”


End file.
